


Wasteland

by eruthiel



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M, Post-Episode: e049 Old Oak Doors Part B
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-07 04:14:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1884792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eruthiel/pseuds/eruthiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos is not alone, and Kevin might just be his ticket home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many Kevin feelings. This is going to deal with the values imposed on him by Strex, and what to do with all that now. Title from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_6NWGkRvMck), hope you enjoy :)

The mountain is no longer in sight, or it no longer exists, or it never existed to begin with. The light on the horizon has faded to a red glow. The desert, silent and flat and featureless, has sunk into darkness. It is still warm. The stars appearing overhead are not points but blurred streaks, as if clipped from time-lapse photographs, which Carlos notes with interest. Time definitely works strangely here, by anyone's standards.

The masked warriors, massive as they are, have long since faded from view. For many hours after the door vanished, Carlos could see them as they dwindled towards the horizon, striding off to some unknown purpose, but now he is alone. This suits him fine. Later on he will attempt to call his scientists back in Night Vale but for now he needs some space alone, to think and to plan.

Carlos spreads out his white coat on the sand and lies down with his face to the sky. There's something soothing about that deep purple dome with its strange stars - something that reminds him of home, of Cecil. In the perfect silence, he hears that voice inside his head from time to time. Nothing exciting, just everyday phrases about the traffic, or needing to buy more cat food. This is normal for him now. Carlos lays his hands on his stomach and lets out a peaceful sigh. He misses Cecil, a bit, but this is fine. He is fine.

The door is gone.

It's fine. Carlos is a scientist, a solver of problems; this is exactly the sort of problem he is best equipped to solve. Not literally, since he has so little equipment here, but in every other respect. Until he solves it he will not return to Night Vale, and that is unacceptable, so he will solve it, and that's that.

The Cecil voice inside his head has fallen silent and the glow on the horizon has almost completely disappeared. It is still warm.

And it is still warm, but almost perfectly dark, when Carlos jolts awake to the sound of his phone ringing. He digs it out of his coat pocket while calculating the odds of it being anyone other than Cecil.

"Carlos?"

"Hi, Cecil," he smiles. His soft voice could carry forever in the endless quiet of the desert. "Did you get my voicemail?"

"I did, but Carlos --" Cecil is speaking faster than usual "-- why have you not come back to me? Why are you not here to celebrate our vanquishing Strex?"

"I told you, the last door between this world and Night Vale is gone. I'm sorry, Cecil, I made a mistake. But it is fixable."

He hears a long, shaky breath, and then Cecil's voice returns a little less panicked. "I know. I-I know, I'm sorry. Are you all right?"

"Don't worry, I'm fine. There's no blinding light or Smiling God here any more. I think it's gone to try consuming some other part of the multiverse. Or something. I don't know. I don't think any of us will ever really understand what it wants or how it thinks - we shouldn't even assume that 'wanting' and 'thinking' are actions it performs..."

"Look, that's really interesting, but maybe you should tell me about it when you're safely home. What about the masked army?"

"They're gone, and I don't think they're coming back. I'm all alone here. It's very peaceful!"

Cecil hesitates. "Carlos..." And he hesitates again.

"What is it, Cecil?"

"Carlos, I am not sure that you are alone. Before the doors were sealed, someone - something - was sent through to the other side."

Confusion makes Carlos' heart dip. "What? But if anyone from Night Vale is still here, then how did I get the doors closed?"

"This man, this creature was not from Night Vale," says Cecil darkly. "He came from Desert Bluffs."

Carlos takes a moment to process this as confusion turns to the excitement of new questions to answer. "But Night Vale and Desert Bluffs exist on the same dimensional plane. Cecil, this is excellent news! Perhaps the link between our worlds was not severed as cleanly as I thought. If I can find this man then I might halve the time it takes to..."

"No," blurts Cecil, "Carlos, you must promise me not to go looking for him, and if he finds you then you must not trust him. He is the monster who pretends to be my double."

This is indeed alarming news - Carlos has never met Cecil's double himself, and heard very little of his radio broadcasts, but the stories Cecil tells are bloodcurdling. That being as it is, Cecil does have a tendency towards the dramatic that Carlos does not share. "I will take your concerns on board, Cecil, but I've got to be practical. I'll do whatever it takes to get back to you, no matter the danger."

Cecil's anguished voice sounds nothing like it does in his head. "I understand. Of course I want you back as soon as possible, but - Carlos... I'd rather have you safe in another world than..."

"Don't worry." Carlos cuts him off before he can give form to his fears. "Discovery is always frightening because the unknown is frightening. Science requires one to deal with the unknown. Life requires it. I actually find it quite exhilarating."

"I don't."

"Cecil?"

"I --" Cecil cuts himself short. "No, Carlos, I do not find it exhilarating. Listen to me. I have been through a lot today and I am scared for you, you know?"

"I know," says Carlos, somewhat bewildered. "Are you... are you mad at me?"

"No! No, no. I guess I'm just tired. So much has happened, so quickly."

"But in a good way, right?"

"Mostly. It has not been easy, but we're free now."

"Yes! Yes, I am so glad, and so proud of our town!"

It sounds like Cecil is smiling despite himself. "We couldn't have done it without you."

"Or you," Carlos points out, "or Dana, or any of the others."

It sounds like Cecil is no longer smiling. "It has not been easy," he repeats.

"I understand. I'll let you get some rest, then."

From the sound of him, Cecil could have been the one who was lost and alone in another dimension. "It was good to hear your voice."

"Goodnight, Cecil. I love you."

"Goodnight, Carlos. Stay safe. I love you too."

Carlos puts his phone down on the sand and stares at its tiny circle of light until everything else becomes nothing but a dark static. He dreams vividly of angels. He dreams vaguely of home.


	2. Chapter 2

Carlos sits cross-legged in the pale sunlight and takes inventory.

He has his phone. He has his coat. He has the scientific odds and ends that were in his pockets when the door closed - much less than he normally carries since, to be on the safe side, he returned everything that was native to Night Vale. Unfortunate in hindsight, but never mind.

He has his wits. He has an almost inexhaustible supply of sand and air and pale, pale sunlight. He has Cecil waiting for him. He has wifi.

And somewhere out there he has Cecil's double, the monster with his boyfriend's face. Carlos furrows his perfect brow and gnaws his perfect lip. Kevin, that's his name. Kevin, the voice of Desert Bluffs. Cecil's warnings ring in his ears but all they make Carlos feel is love, and longing, and fresh determination to make it home to Night Vale at any cost.

He wonders how bad Kevin can really be. Here in this neutral world, without the corrupting influence of StrexCorp and the Smiling God, what's left? A passive aggressive radio host? Carlos is pretty sure he knows how to handle those by now. Then again, it could be something far more menacing. Who's to say Kevin wasn't dangerous even before Strex got to him? Desert Bluffs has always been creepy and its weird, duplicate citizens even creepier. Maybe Kevin is something altogether unknown, something with its own story and power and malicious agenda.

This is the part where Carlos starts to wish he'd paid more attention to Kevin when he was on the radio, but for much of that time he was trapped in the wrong dimension. All he remembers is a sunshiny voice, far cosier and less deep than Cecil's, far less overtly forbidding. Sort of like Cecil when he talks about kittens. Carlos knows better than to equate a friendly tone with a friend. He also knows he doesn't have the luxury of choice.

The sand is quite firm beneath his feet - easy enough to walk on, and the magic of this place keeps him from getting hungry or thirsty. As such Carlos is able to keep walking for what feels like hours before plain old exhaustion forces him to take a break. The time on his phone has not changed, but the sun has moved in the sky.

Right, yes. There is a sun in the sky now. Before there was a mountain and a blinking light and a constant, ominous glow on the horizon; now there is a waxy yellow disc, an anaemic version of the sun he knows, tracking an unexciting path across the sky. Even when it is directly overhead, the temperature never wavers above a comfortable warmth, the sort that does not require Carlos to keep his coat on but also does not punish him for wearing it. He finds this convenient, and the convenience fascinates him. As he rests, he composes a quick list of possible explanations.

First, it could be a coincidence that this unknown world is so comfortable and habitable to human life. Absurd, but possible. The past two years have taught him never to ignore something just because it's absurd.

Second, and more exciting, it could be that humans are designed for this environment. Of course, humanity evolved to live on Earth, which suggests several further possibilities: perhaps this place is an alternative Earth; or the same Earth, many billions of years removed from when Carlos knew it; or modelled on Earth, or...

Ah. The third possibility, and perhaps most exciting of all: that this environment is designed for humans. Carlos does not know who or what has the power to sculpt firm deserts and hang a pale sun in the sky. He cannot imagine the power involved in keeping him and his phone battery alive without food or electricity. He certainly does not know why anyone would do such a thing, or what they might have to do with the oak doors and the Smiling God and the masked army.

This excites Carlos most of all. He can feel a hypothesis begin to tap at the corner of his mind.

After resting and massaging his sore muscles, he sets out again in the same direction, away from the setting sun. He's not altogether ignorant of StrexCorp's favoured symbolic motifs, and in the absence of any other hints, he's decided to take a gamble on Kevin being drawn in the direction of the sunrise.

Carlos doesn't yet know what he'll do if and when their paths cross. In the best case scenario, Kevin will be as keen as he is to get home, and the necessity of working together towards that end will help them overcome any differences. In the worst case scenario, Carlos only hopes he'll survive long enough to hear Cecil say "I told you so."

In terms of actually re-opening the door between two worlds, well, Carlos suspects that will start to fall into place as he comes to understand more about this desert. If he had more of his equipment with him, he could test the chemical makeup of the ground and the atmosphere, build up a better idea of its similarities to his Earth. As it is, he puts one foot in front of the other, and keeps his scientist's eyes peeled for information.

It's starting to get dark again by the time he notices any change in the landscape. There is nothing but Carlos himself to cast a shadow and yet there, in the middle distance, a shadow has appeared like a slit in the ground. He makes it his mission to investigate that shadow tonight, even if he has to do it by starlight.

It takes longer than he expects to reach his destination. The flat terrain is deceptive, allowing his gaze to pass over great distances without really noticing them. At last Carlos draws close enough to tell that what looked like a slit in the ground is, in fact, just that - a crevice, no more than ten meters across and thirty meters wide. As he draws closer still he sees that the lips of the fissure are of orange-brown stone, sloping downwards into shadow.

By now, the first faint smudges have appeared in the sky. Over in this world's equivalent of the west, a pink strip has formed around the sun as it makes its final descent.

Carlos comes to a halt at the mouth of the crevice. He shines his phone into the darkness and sees that it is surprisingly shallow, with a rough stone floor just a few meters down. He pans his phone around and spots something else surprising off to his right: at that end, the hole tapers to a gentle slope, actually forming a path down into its depths. This is not an ordinary fissure but an opening to some underground alleyway! His spirits rising, Carlos hurries round the hole to its shallowest point and hops down inside.

He stands motionless for a good thirty seconds, feeling the speckled walls of the crevice, peering into the path ahead, waiting to see if he's just delivered himself into the maw of a geological Venus flytrap. When it does not snap shut on his legs, he decides that it is probably safe to press on, and promptly does so, holding his phone ahead of him as a torch.

The path descends gently, but the smooth progress means that before he knows it Carlos has passed fully underground, the mouth of the crevice disappearing behind him and taking the last vestige of daylight with it. He takes a moment to steady his nerves.

Out of the pitch black silence ahead, Carlos thinks he can hear a voice. He knows it is not Cecil speaking inside his head because this voice, this whisper, is far less overtly forbidding.

He takes a few steps forward and stops again. He now has no bars on his phone. The speckles on the walls have turned under his fingertips to tiny embossed triangles.

He steps forward and does not stop.

It takes Carlos a few minutes to realise that the tunnel in which he now finds himself is curved, very slightly, to the left. He follows it for a long time, keeping his phone pointed at the ground to avoid tripping over any non-existent bumps or potholes. Now that he has moved deeper underground, the floor is very, very smooth. The ceiling is high enough for him to stand upright, though he suspects the masked warriors would not fit even if they stooped.

The triangles on the walls are growing larger. He feels them every so often, just to check, and before long each one is the size of his palm. Carlos' palms are larger than average. Even though the triangles are undoubtedly increasing in size, they are still perfectly tessellated; Carlos knows there should be some irregularity or join somewhere, but he is too preoccupied with his mission to stop and find it.

Again and again he hears snatches of what he thinks is human speech, whispering out of the gloom in front of him. Every time it is a little louder, a little clearer. Still it is no more than the ghost of a one-sided conversation. It gives Carlos a tight feeling in his stomach, but this is only a feeling, and not a scientifically relevant one. He does not stop.

The gentle decline remains consistent, but the curve to the left becomes more and more pronounced until, by the time the triangles are larger than his whole hand, Carlos knows that he is walking in a downward spiral. How far beneath the surface he is, he cannot say. How long it has taken, he cannot say. If the tunnel is shaped like a spiral then eventually, logically, it has to come to an end - assuming everything works the same way here as it does on Earth, which Carlos already knows it doesn't. He remains cautiously optimistic nonetheless. Endings are a near-universal constant.

If he finds something worth taking back to the surface, he may not even have to make it to the end. He's not sure he wants to know what this tunnel leads to, anyway.

Many hours pass, or so it seems. Carlos stops once, to take off his shoes and massage his feet. He is tired and his eyes are raw from staring at the ground, but he would rather not sleep in this place unless absolutely necessary. He slips his shoes back on his feet and forges ahead.

The triangles on the walls are now almost as tall as Carlos himself, and the curve has become rather tight. He wonders if he might at last be nearing the innermost loop of the spiral. Suddenly, he stops dead; the voice from the darkness has sounded again, too clear to ignore, almost clear enough to make out the words. Carlos hopes that without the noise of his footfalls and rustling clothes, he might just be able to make something out, but no such luck.

The tight feeling in his stomach is on the verge of becoming scientifically relevant. Carlos swallows hard and walks bravely, slowly, deliberately forwards.

His light falls on something up ahead.

It is small, or folded up small in the shape of a ball or crouching human.

It is more or less motionless. It might be shaking or that might just be a trick of the trembling light source in Carlos' hand, or both.

It says, "How nice. What beautiful weather we're having! What beautiful, merciful weather," in a voice that is cheerful and terrible and terrified all at once.

"Kevin," says Carlos, in a voice that is only just there.

Kevin turns slowly. Carlos keeps his distance and points his phone at the creature, staring it down as best he can, cataloguing every detail he can discern through the stark light and shadow. Its huddled pose is defensive. It has Cecil's hands and shoulders, Cecil's hair. Where its eyes should be are two deep pits and its mouth is locked in a pained facsimile of a smile, but otherwise, the face is a perfect match. The smart but badly dishevelled suit is pale - it's hard to make out colours, only shades - meaning the dark stains stand out even more.

He is unpleasant to look at and, in light of the resemblance to Cecil, not a little creepy. Carlos gives himself time to appreciate this and experience some inevitable revulsion before snapping back into science mode. Unpleasant and creepy are not important. Unpleasant and creepy are, in fact, major features of his daily life these days - will be once again, as soon as he makes it back to Night Vale. What's important is pushing past unhelpful feelings to do what has to be done.

"Hello there," he says softly. "I'm Carlos. I'm a scientist."

Kevin gasps. "Carlos _the_ scientist? From Night Vale?"

"That's right. You've heard of me?"

"Of course!" With a strained giggle, Kevin grabs the wall and pulls himself nearly upright, leaning heavily on a triangle larger than he is. "I'm so sorry, I-- I didn't recognise you. It's so bright in here."

"Uh, yes." Carlos avoids correcting him for now, hoping to build on this initial sense of goodwill. Kevin may be a horrible travesty of his beloved Cecil, and could still be evil, but right now he seems only confused and desperate to please. It makes it a little easier for Carlos to hope that they'll find a way to work together. "Would you like to come with me back to the surface? I can help you if you're having trouble walking."

"What did you say! What did you..." Kevin is angry, and laughing, and then covering his face with bloodstained hands all in a matter of seconds. "Oh my, I really must apologise again. I'm not myself today. So much has happened, so quickly."

Carlos has an uncomfortable moment of déjà-vu at those words, but he stays focused. "That's all right. Why don't you tell me about it on the way up?"

"I'm not sure." Kevin turns towards the wall, running his hand along the lines of his chosen triangle with a sigh. "I think I might stay here for a while, with all this beautiful light..."

"Are you sure? Because it's much brighter on the surface. There's a sun now."

Kevin cringes and presses his face harder against the wall. "Oh, that sounds delightful! But I couldn't, I couldn't..." He trails off, then lets out a squeak. "A sun? Really?"

"Really. I haven't had a chance to study it properly yet, but I can tell it's not like the sun back home. I think it may be in a yet undiscovered stage of its life cycle."

"Oh, you are a clever scientist! I wish I could come with you, I do!"

Carlos extends a hand. "Then come with me. It's really no trouble -- I'll carry you back to the surface if necessary."

The anger is back in a flash, and it sounds more like fear. "Don't say that!" Kevin screeches, stumbling towards him. "Don't call me -- that! I can do it myself!"

"So I see," says Carlos quickly, backing away. Kevin falters and comes to a halt, breathing heavily as Carlos offers him a hand once again. "I'm sorry. I can tell I've upset you. I'll try not to do that again. Now, let's get out of this place. It's too claustrophobic."

Kevin nods, silent, and takes a shaky step forward. He ignores all of Carlos' attempts to help him, defiantly shuffling along the tunnel wall under his own steam. Inch by inch, they make their way back towards the surface. Aside from Kevin's occasional whimpers and Carlos' words of encouragement, they do not speak. As they go, Kevin pauses sometimes to feel the triangles, just as Carlos did on the way down.

It takes them many hours to approach the surface. At several points, Carlos is tempted to relieve the boredom with a few games of periodic table 2048 on his phone, but he is still too wary of Kevin to take his eyes off him for even a minute. He may not be as vulnerable as he appears. Yes, he seems ashamed of his supposed injuries, but who's to say that isn't also an act? In any case, it pays to be vigilant.

After a long, long hike, they make it to the open crevice without incident, at which point Kevin trips over a dent in the stone floor. He pushes away Carlos' supportive arms and drags himself into the pre-dawn light. "I can do it myself," he hisses.

"I know," says Carlos. "Look, you did it! We're at the surface!"

He gestures upwards at the sky. Kevin throws it only a brief, fearful glance before turning his pits to the ground.

"Come on!" Carlos, whose patience is wearing thin, grabs his hand and leads him up to the mouth of the crevice. He points out to where sun has just shown its first sliver of gold above the horizon, chasing back the night with every passing second. "Look, Kevin, isn't that beautiful?"

Kevin covers his pits with his sleeve and slumps to the ground, crying. He wails something about the Smiling God. He flails his free arm when a shocked Carlos tries to comfort him.

"Kevin, I -- I'm so sorry. Are you all right?" When Kevin only sobs harder, Carlos figures it's safe to assume the answer to that question. He tries a more complex one. "What's the matter?"

It takes a little while for Kevin to pull himself together enough to choke out an answer. For the first time, his voice lacks even the thinnest veneer of warmth. "How can I work if I cannot see?"

Carlos blinks. "What? You're blind?" Kevin just points at his empty eye sockets and screams. "Right, but I thought... Cecil never mentioned..."

"The Smiling God blessed me with sight and now, now it has forsaken me!"

That horrible smile has vanished, perhaps for the first time in years, leaving the stretched skin of his face hanging loose around needle-sharp teeth. Carlos swallows his disgust and hunkers down next to Kevin's trembling form. "Kevin... it's all right. Let it all out. I'm here, okay? I'm your friend."

A few sobs and hiccups later, Kevin manages to get out a coherent word or two. "Perfect Carlos," he sighs. "Thank you, friend. I-I appreciate it."

"It's fine. And you're going to be fine. We both are."

Kevin curls up in the sand and weeps while Carlos sits by, cross-legged, to watch the sunrise.


	3. Chapter 3

In the light of day, Carlos finds his new companion a little less ghoulish to look at. It might be that Kevin is no longer smiling that awful jagged smile. It might be that through the lens of pity, he doesn't seem like much of a threat. There is sand in his hair and the creases of his yellow jacket. His body has almost stopped shaking, with more and more time passing between each shudder that runs through his limbs.

Carlos decides to wait in silence until Kevin feels ready to talk. His phone, however, has other ideas.

"I'm sorry, I have to take this." Kevin does not respond. He stays put as Carlos strides away from him, more out of habit than any hope of privacy. When there is at least a respectable distance between them, Carlos takes the call. "Hi, Cecil!"

"Carlos?" Cecil's voice is panicked. "My Carlos! Oh, I'm so happy you're there! I've been calling you for hours!"

"I'm sorry, Cecil, I was in this weird tunnel. I don't know why but I couldn't get reception in there."

Cecil is gushing - relieved, not accusing. "I was so scared for you! I haven't slept a wink!"

"Nor have I. I missed you." Carlos clears his throat apologetically. "Um, Cecil, I've made a discovery."

"You found a way to get home?"

"No. I found Kevin." Over by the crevice, Carlos can see Kevin still huddled on the ground. If he is paying attention to their conversation, he doesn't show it.

On the other end of the line, Cecil's voice has taken on that ominous tone. "Carlos," he breathes. "I warned you about that wretched beast for a reason. Please, please tell me you did not find it alive."

"I can't tell you that, Cecil." He clamours to make his defence heard over Cecil's low, mournful groan. "But look, I'm keeping an eye on him, I swear! Anyway, he's in a bad way. He can't see and can hardly walk."

"Lies," Cecil hisses, sounding more like his double than ever. "You are dealing with a demon in human guise. And not a regular helpful demon but a vicious, bloodthirsty monster. Kevin murdered the Shauns, Carlos! He would have murdered the station kittens if I hadn't arrived in time!"

"I'm not saying he's a good person. I'm just saying that desperate circumstances call for desperate measures. I know you don't approve, but please trust me: this is my best hope."

Cecil sighs. "I do trust you," he says after a long pause. "Just promise me you won't trust Kevin. Use him if you have to, just promise me that."

"I promise."

"All right," says Cecil, somewhat mollified, "that's something. Thank you."

"I should probably get back to work, then." Carlos is very conscious that Kevin has not moved at all since he left him. "I'm sure you have important radio things to do, so…"

"Oh... yeah. Really important. The fallout from the election was quite messy, and... you know, we're still trying to get back into the old routine here."

"That's wonderful. I can't wait to get back into it with you." Carlos has started walking back over to Kevin. "I'll text you later, okay?"

"Okay. Goodbye, Carlos -- I love you so, so much!"

Carlos smiles. "I love you so much too. Bye, Cecil."

He comes to a halt over Kevin's motionless body. Leaning in, Carlos realises that he's fallen asleep in the foetal position, eye-holes blank as ever, a small patch of drool collecting on the sand. Between the crying and the long trek to the surface, he must have been exhausted.

Carlos is feeling more than a little tired himself. With a yawn, he spreads out his coat and settles himself down nearby for a nap.

He drifts in and out of dreams for a while, sometimes mistaking one world for the other. Are the familiar lights overhead only present in his memory? When Carlos opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is the bleary outline of Cecil, and for a split second he is back in Night Vale, having only dreamed of the empty desert. His insides are warm and sick all at once.

Then Cecil speaks and becomes Kevin, and the sick feeling engulfs everything else.

"So if you're just tuning in: uh-oh! You've been missing out on all the productive fun we've been having! I hope you're meeting your mandatory listening hours, or else you'll really be missing out. Not least on this exciting message we have coming up next from our parent company!"

"Kevin..." Carlos doesn't want to upset him, but he's not sure he can stand to listen to a spiel about Strex after everything that's happened. Besides, the sooner Kevin can move on from it, the better for everyone. Carlos shuffles over to where he's kneeling. "Are you all right?"

Kevin squeals. "Listeners, it seems we have a guest in the studio - a very scientific guest all the way from Night Vale! Carlos, to what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?"

"I need to show you something," says Carlos. "Look. May I take your hand?"

"Ooh, well, sure!" Kevin emits another curious noise of enthusiasm and holds out one hand. "Listeners, I don't know what this is about, but Carlos is grasping my wrist... his grip is strong but gentle... he is guiding my palm down to the desk, where..." He falters. "I cannot feel the desk with its regular coating of blood and viscera. I think I can feel sand. Warm, clean sand."

After Carlos releases his wrist, Kevin continues feeling the ground for a while, nervously sifting grains through his fingers. After a long silence, his voice returns, much changed. It is quiet, apologetic. "Thank you. I-I don't know what... I woke up and I guess I was still dreaming a little, and I thought if I just carried on as normal..."

"I know. I almost did the same. But it doesn't work that way." Carlos lays a hand on Kevin's shoulder. "Is it all right if I touch you like this? From now on, whenever you're getting distracted, just to pull you back to reality."

"That would be lovely. It's so easy to feel stranded out here." Kevin is still feeling the sand around his knees, making ambivalent noises. "At least you have your phone," he adds cheerfully, after a while. "Was that Cecil calling earlier?"

"Oh... yes." Carlos isn't sure whether to mention Cecil's misgivings, but Kevin charges ahead, settling the matter for him.

"That's lovely. It must be a great source of comfort to you. I left my phone behind, I'm such a silly!"

Carlos clears his throat. "Do you... I mean, is there a version of… me? In Desert Bluffs?"

Kevin giggles. "Oh, no. Not that I'm aware, anyway - more's the pity!"

It makes sense. After all, Carlos remembers bitterly, you have to be from Night Vale to meet your double. "In that case, is there anyone else you want to call? I could lend you my phone, it's no trouble."

This makes Kevin fall silent, and Carlos worries that he has messed up by offering help again. Kevin certainly doesn't react well to people trying to help him. At last, however, he seems to find himself and answers mildly, "No. There were some, but that was a long time ago, I think."

They sit for a while, letting the silence of the desert bear in on them. Carlos is just about to try a new topic when Kevin says, "So... what's the plan, friend? Are we headed back home any time soon, or are we trapped here?"

"A bit of both. I'm trying to develop a way to break back through to Night Vale. I was hoping you would be able to help me."

Kevin perks up instantly. His permanent, inhuman smile has already collapsed, taking much of his face with it, but it's clear he's trying to simulate it with what muscles he has left. "Oh, is there work to be done? I'll help!"

"Good. I appreciate that."

"Just tell me what needs doing and I'll get to it! I may not be at the top of my game but gosh, I've still got a willing pair of hands and a very responsible work ethic!"

How much of this is left over from Strex, Carlos wonders, and how much is just Kevin's personality? Either way, he's going to make the best of it. "Actually, Kevin, the first thing you can do is help me assess our situation a little better. If you don't mind my asking, how did you get here in the first place? Cecil told me you were 'sent through,' but it would help to know the exact circumstances."

There's another long pause, after which Kevin admits, "Do you know, I'm not certain. I have so many memories, but they don't fit together... some of them don't even make sense. It all seemed so natural at the time but the more I try to work out what really happened, the less sure I am that any of it was real at all."

"That's all right. Just tell me the last memories you have of Night Vale."

Kevin wrings his hands. "Well. I do remember the studio. Not my studio; the quaint little one in Night Vale. I remember Cecil was there, and we were having such a pleasant time, making plans for the future! Such a caring and fun-filled person, your Cecil. I was showing him all the beauty and majesty of the light beyond the world, of what we could have together. And there was another man there with us who asked me a lot of questions about Desert Bluffs, and I was very happy to help him. I think he was pleased with my answers, too, because he started raising his voice and moving his limbs and giving me a very tight hug!"

The narrative comes to an abrupt halt. Kevin's attempt at a smile is frozen in place, his eyeless stare is fixed. "And then..." he whispers. "It was bright, and loud, and it hurt. Either very hot or very cold, I couldn't tell. And the pain and the noise and the light were all the same, I mean I saw them all, it came in through my sight and spread out to every one of my senses." His breath catches oddly. "And I was so happy to be one with the light. So happy. It was dreadful."

Carlos does his best not to sound pushy, despite the need for information hammering inside his brain. "And then what happened?"

"A great outpouring. A great rushing, a great emptying, a great loss." Kevin touches his face. "Then I woke up in the same stone corridor where you found me. And I felt... I _felt!_ Such loneliness and angst, Carlos, oh, I finally _felt!_ I don't know how long I stayed there, trying not to feel. Somehow I sensed that it had once been a place of light." His sunshine returns whiplash-fast. "And the rest you know!"

Carlos is not sure that he does.


	4. Chapter 4

Carlos spends the rest of the day developing his ideas about the desert: photographing the sky; tracing diagrams in the sand; running what tests he can with the equipment he has. Kevin spends it limping around the surrounding area, trying to get his strength back.

If it were anyone else, Carlos would recommend rest instead, but Kevin abhors any hint of idleness. Plus, this way, his inane chattering to himself is muted somewhat by distance. Every so often, he shouts back an offer of help, and each time Carlos rebuffs him politely -- until now.

"Actually, Kevin," Carlos calls, "if you're not too busy, I could use a hand over here."

Kevin scurries towards the sound of his voice as fast as his legs will carry him, which is not very fast. Carlos keeps one eye out to make sure he's not in danger of falling into the crevice. "Easy," he warns, catching Kevin as he staggers to a halt beside Carlos' makeshift workspace. "There's no rush. I just want to ask you a few more questions."

"Fire away!"

The two of them settle down on the ground. Carlos taps out notes on his phone as he talks. "Okay. Since we've been here, have you had anything to eat or drink?" Kevin shakes his head. "And have you felt hungry or thirsty at all?"

"Nope! It's all very new, not feeling wonderful all the time. Or even some of the time. But I've had no problems on that front."

"But you used to eat normally in Desert Bluffs? I mean, you're not a robot or anything..."

"Oh, yes. Delicious nutrient paste, once a day, plus hormone supplements and memory regulators as required. All completely standard."

The hypothesis in the corner of Carlos' mind starts to tap a little louder. "Because paste is more efficient than cooking and eating all different kinds of food, right?"

"Right!" Kevin doesn't seem as thrilled as he thinks he ought to be. "Efficiency is -- was -- top priority under StrexCorp, always."

"There must be even more efficient ways of keeping people alive. Tubes, drips."

"Yes, well, new systems are -- were -- in development. Anyone who consistently failed to meet productivity targets was called into service as an experimental subject."

Carlos is not sure whether to squirm or feel relieved that Kevin is squirming, too. Maybe there's hope for his humanity after all. But that has to wait. "Tell me this, Kevin," says Carlos, his thumbs hovering over his touchscreen. "Given enough time, do you think StrexCorp would have eliminated the need to ingest food altogether? I mean, through scientific or supernatural means or a combination of the two, might they have contrived atmospheric conditions to keep people alive just by breathing?"

Kevin hasn't stopped squirming. "That sounds like something they would like very much. Are -- are you saying that Strex was here..?"

"Well, Strex or something like it. The Smiling God was here, after all. Perhaps this world is where it originated or perhaps it was just one stop on its journey. Either way, it only makes sense that its influence would give rise to similar social phenomena, don't you think?"

By now Kevin has wrapped his arms around himself. "I--I guess so. But the people who lived here -- if they're gone now, how is it still working?"

"Huge atmospheric shifts like that take a long time, and a long time to undo. Whatever they did might be in place for millions of years to come." Carlos waves a hand through the air. It meets no more resistance than he would expect. "Of course, this is all just conjecture on my part. It could be something else entirely keeping us alive. But it would explain why my phone has stayed charged for so long, if they set up some kind of global field to power devices remotely. I'll have to talk more with Dana when we get home - she spent so long here, she must have some insight to offer."

It hasn't escaped Carlos' notice that his speculation is upsetting Kevin, who is still visibly struggling with his memories of life under Strex. Carlos lays a hand on his shoulder. "Kevin. Are you all right there?"

Kevin opens his mouth, but at first no sound comes out. When at last he does speak, it's strangled and slow. "A whole planet. It just... used them up. And when this place became a wasteland it started doing the same thing to my town. Our towns." He gropes for Carlos' other hand and Carlos gives it, grasping his bloodstained fingers tightly. "And we let it through. We helped it."

"But you weren't yourself then. It's powerful, it controls people's minds."

"Yes. Yes, it does." Kevin's head drops to his chest. "I'm sorry. I was only trying to be helpful. I just -- what if it's still here? What if it comes back?"

"Well then, we'll deal with it together, won't we? And you were helpful, Kevin."

"Really?"

"Very much so. I'm sorry for making you relive this; I wouldn't if it wasn't important to my scientific process. Now, would you like to lie down for a bit?"

Kevin nods. He waits as Carlos lays out his coat for him, then curls up on his side. Carlos watches him for a minute to make sure he's calmed down, then goes back to his work.

For the next few hours, the science is everything. The desert falls away as Carlos retreats into sums and estimates, taking notes as he goes. He's got that feeling he gets when connections form in his mind like fire spreading from tree to tree, cornering the answers he needs - how long it would have taken for Strex to buy every town on Earth, the efficiency gap between a normal-sized human and a giant masked warrior, figures and ideas coming together ever faster.

When a concerned text from Cecil breaks his concentration, Carlos realises the sky is dark and streaked with stars. So much time has slipped by while he didn't even notice. He sends Cecil a reassuring reply before turning to check on Kevin.

Kevin has disappeared, and Carlos knows instantly where he's gone, because there is light flooding out of the tunnel.

Carlos dashes to the opening and jumps inside. The tiny triangles on the walls are glowing, emitting a pale light that casts no shadows and seems to buzz inside his skull. As he runs deeper underground, the light becomes brighter, hurting his eyes and turning stone to transparent gauze. Carlos hears Kevin chanting before he sees him, and sees him before he rounds the bend of the spiral.

"Kevin," shouts Carlos, shielding his eyes with one hand, although it doesn't help. "Kevin, stop!"

The smile Kevin turns on him is ghastly. He stops chanting, but the walls keep glowing. "Hello there! You were right," he beams. He is shaking from head to toe. "The Smiling God was here. Remnants of light remain, see? I pulled them from the darkness! It came back after all!"

"Kevin, that's a bad thing!"

"Bad, Carlos? What does that mean?"

"It means stop this and come back to the surface with me before we get hurt!"

"I don't know if I can do that, Carlos. This is how it was meant to be - how it has to be."

Carlos edges towards him, teeth clenched against the buzz in his skull. "You don't believe that. The light's just twisting your mind like it did before."

"Right!" Kevin's laugh is frantic. "Do you know, I fought it longer than anyone? I told myself I was strong for staying in the dark, where everything was fear and struggle. But eventually there was no dark at all, not even when you closed your eyes -- you could see right through. Through your own skin! The light permeated everything, the earth, the night, your dreams. So I cut out my eyes!" He shrugs as if to say, isn't life funny sometimes? "It was supposed to be a final, glorious show of resistance. I thought it would bring me relief. Darkness. But -- the Smiling God smiled upon me. And I saw _everything._ Do you understand?"

"I..."

A demand. "Do you understand, Carlos?"

But Carlos is distracted. The light pouring from the walls is indeed permeating everything, making it all seem weaker, less real. He can see the wall behind Kevin and the bones in his hands. He can see... no, surely he's just confused.

Oh. No, he _can_ see Cecil. Right where Kevin is stood, the two doubles overlapping, Carlos can make out the ghost of his boyfriend: one hand supporting his head, the other clutching his phone. Carlos looks around and realises that as the light washes out more and more of the tunnel, Cecil's radio studio is becoming clearer. He's sure they haven't moved. He can still feel the hard rock through the soles of his shoes and when he touches the triangles, they are either very hot or very cold; it's hard to tell. But the light is somehow travelling across worlds to Night Vale and back again, letting them see through to the other side.

Kevin has not stopped shaking and his chant has dropped to a whisper. Carlos steels himself and lunges forward to grab him by the arms. Kevin mewls like a frightened animal. "Hey!"

"I'm sorry, Kevin," says Carlos, clutching him tighter. "I don't have a choice. We both need to remember where we are. All we have right now is each other, do you realise that?"

"But the light --"

"Forget the light! It failed you, it's done with you! Why can't you just be done with it? There might still be a life for you without it, but Kevin, if you want that future then you have to come with me."

Kevin's fingers are digging into Carlos' arms. "I want to. I really want to."

"Then come on."

The fingers dig tighter, and Kevin's voice comes even quieter. "Are we in Hell, Carlos?"

"I don't think so. It doesn't matter either way. All that matters is that scientifically speaking, we are alive, and so long as we are alive we must keep trying." As he speaks, Kevin's trembling becomes a little less violent, and the light a little less harsh. The vision of Cecil is growing faint. "After so long in that nightmare town, going back to your old normal life must seem impossible. Trust me, I know. But you're the Voice of Desert Bluffs - you still have your voice, remember that. And Desert Bluffs still needs you to help it get back on track. So let's try to keep moving forward. Okay?"

The light has all but died away, leaving them standing in murky orange gloom. Kevin takes a long breath. "Okay."

"Come on, then." Carlos takes Kevin's hand. His nails are sharp and skin rough with dried blood, but it fits perfectly, just like Cecil's. Kevin lets him, and at the moment their hands lock, the walls stop glowing altogether. In perfect darkness, they walk back up towards the surface.

Carlos' mind is racing. All the time he was working on his theories, trying to understand this desert, one thing had failed to fall into place: the tunnel with its crevice opening. Now that he's seen what Kevin can do to it, and what _it_ can do to _him_ , he's starting to think it might be more important than he ever suspected. Carlos has no way to be sure, but he thinks that whoever lived here must have been compelled to build it as a sort of channel, a special place of concentrated power; a way to commune directly with God.

Most important of all, he now knows that there's still some of that deadly light lying dormant in this place. All it needs is the right encouragement, the right tools to channel it, and it can be summoned. Perhaps it can even be controlled, or at least directed.

In the tunnel, he saw Cecil. That means the light is still capable of crossing worlds.

They climb out onto the sand and both collapse, emotionally exhausted, under the stars. Carlos looks over at Kevin out of the corner of his eye. At last, he knows how they're going to get home, and it's going to involve Kevin making himself very useful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all very much for reading so far, especially if you left comments/kudos. I hope to get this finished in the next couple of days!


End file.
